


Forever Isn't So Great

by Blueismybusiness



Series: Valentine's Day Prompts: 7 Days of Prompts [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: M/M, Soulmate AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-10
Updated: 2019-02-10
Packaged: 2019-10-25 09:56:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17722988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blueismybusiness/pseuds/Blueismybusiness
Summary: Prompt: When people reach the age of 18, they stop aging until they meet their soulmate. He has been 18 for 20 yrs. -- ToraKen (Bgee93)





	Forever Isn't So Great

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BGee93](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BGee93/gifts).



> Totally forgot to start posting these. Here's the first.

_ “You know Yoshimura-san ran into her Ender last week?” _

Ender. It’s what they call soulmates now-a-days; a degrading term for a privilege some would would give their life for. Which is exactly what happens when you meet your soulmate, and the it’s greatest prank courtesy of the universe.

Yamamoto Taketora watches the scenery zip by as the bullet train rushes toward its destination, and attempts to ignore the gossiping. He finds it funny how his current situation is metaphorical to the rest of his life; life speeds along, outpacing him as he stays the same. The very definition of forever alone. 

Around one hundred years ago or something like that, some bastard convinced the world that to find your soulmate is paramount to committing suicide. Why would you give up forever for love when you could have forever to accomplish your dreams? 

The blurry scenery outside the train becomes even less identifiable as Taketora focuses in on his reflection in the large window. At thirty-eight, he no longer sports the faux-hawk and track suits of his youth, and instead, in an effort to appear more mature, Taketora has let his hair grow out a little, as well as changed his wardrobe. He now styles his hair in a fashionable undercut, and his clothes are a little more trendy and fit like they’re supposed to. However, the frustrating part is that he is still eighteen, and he will continue to be eighteen until he finds the one person he’s supposed to share his life with. But, it’s not like he  _ wants  _ to age. It’s just that his permanently young appearance is a constant reminder of the love he has yet to find. 

Taketora’s attention is caught by the monosyllabic voice of a news reporter as someone a few seats away fails to wear earbuds while watching videos in a public space.

Rude.

_ “Dr. Kawasaki Kazuki, lead researcher with X Biomedical Group, and 189 years old, was found dead this afternoon. Dr. Kawasaki, renown for his research and breakthroughs with Alzheimer’s, met his Ender, Randine Aanonsen, _ _ in  _ _ Cannes, France _ _ ,  _ _ at a conference on dementia, neuroimaging, and nuclear medicine. Sources close to the doctor stated that since their meeting the doctor’s behavior had been erratic and out-of-character, and according to these sources, there was a high level of tension that existed between the doctor and his new partner.  _

_ “It is a well known fact that the death of one soulmate leaves the survivor nearly immortal, barring severe sickness or extreme trauma. Authorities have had little to say on whether the death of Dr. Kawasaki was an act of suicide or one of homicide….” _

Taketora tunes out the rest, uninterested in the macabre newscast. It is common knowledge that some people would rather selfishly commit murder to keep on living. He wouldn’t be the least bit surprised to hear tomorrow that Dr. What’s His Name  _ was  _ killed. Some people never realized how lucky they were. 

Taketora is part of a small group who still believe in the old traditions. He looks forward to aging because if he is growing old, it means he is growing old with the one person he is destined to be with. For as long as he could remember, Taketora has never been able to understand how a person can live their whole life without love. Yes, he understands that there are different kinds of love, but call him sentimental. 

Taketora loves the idea of being in love. He loves the idea of waking up next to his person every day, and he loves the idea of a domesticated life full of little things like morning coffee or cuddling on the couch with a bowl of popcorn and a cheesy movie playing on the television. Taketora loves the idea that in fifty years he could turn his head to see the gray hair and wrinkled skin of the person who has shared in making thousands of happy memories with him. Someone who knows him; knows how he can be loud and passionate, and still love him anyway.

Taketora sighs. Realistically he knows that meeting your soulmate is more than one in ten thousand, yet he still hopes. He hopes because he doesn’t think he can stand forever without them.

His pocket vibrates, and Taketora pulls out his phone to look at the screen. There is a message from Kuroo, one of his closest friends and the reason for his train ride. He swipes open his phone and messaging app to read what was sent.

**_> > 3:41PM From Kool Kat_ **

**_dude, hope u dnt mind kenma will be staying too prblm at his apt_ **

**_> > 3:43PM To Kool Kat_ **

**_Cool_ **

Kuroo is one of those fortunate bastards. He works for some big shot tech corporation, and was focused on his career with no interest in soulmates until he met Daichi Sawamura when their companies merged almost ten years ago. Now Kuroo lives in Miyagi, manages a small branch of the company, has three kids, and is as happy as a fucking clam.

Some assholes have all the luck. Not that Taketora begrudges his friend his happiness, he’s just adult enough to admit he’s jealous as hell.

An hour and a half later, and Taketora is knocking on the door to a moderate sized, modern Japanese home, in a pretty little suburb. Taketora grits his teeth and tries to forcefully swallow back his envy. 

The door opens a moment later to a little girl of about six, long, black pigtails swinging as she yanks open the door. Her face is chubby and her eyes are large and round, and almost as cat-like as her ornery father. The smell of garlic, basil, and other assorted Italian aromas filter through the door making Taketora’s mouth water. He hadn’t realized how hungry he is.

“Who are you?” She asks, staring at him with an intense appraisal that reminds Taketora of Kuroo so much it’s almost creepy.

“Miyu!” The door opens wider as Daichi gives his daughter a disapproving look. He’s dressed in jeans and a t-shirt that’s a little to long and a little too tight. He looks the same as he did a year ago, the last time Taketora saw him—that is to say hot as hell. Fucking Kuroo and his damn luck.

There is a dish towel draped over his shoulder, which he grabs and smacks Miyu on the head with. “What have I told you of opening the door to strangers?”

“Don’t,” is the reply given by the child, along with a look of exasperation, as if she’s heard this lecture a thousand times before. Taketora notices Daichi repress a grin at his child’s clipped tone. 

“That’s right. And we also don’t speak to our elders in such a rude manner.” Daichi drills her with that look that every parent has, one that exudes disappointment and expectation.

“Sorry, sir,” Miyu mutters to Taketora, giving a little bow, and he guffaws because being adopted sure hasn’t changed the fact she acts like Kuroo. Children are a never ending source of entertainment.

“It’s fine, Miyuchan! My name is Yamamoto, and it’s a pleasure to meet you!”

Daichi shines with pride, and Taketora grins before turning back to Miyu. She continues to watch him like some interesting piece of something, before nodding and darting off deeper into her house.

Daichi sighs, “Kids…” He leaves the sentence open to interpretation, but his intent is obvious, and Taketora doesn’t need him to clarify. Being a parent is hard work. Taketora knows this even if he doesn’t have children of his own.

“Yeah,” Taketora agrees, grinning at the empty space little Miyu left behind as his eyes fall on Daichi again.

“Welcome, Tora. Glad you could finally make it,” Daichi greets, his big brown eyes are warm and happy, and Taketora can’t help but bask in the man’s blatant joy.

“Come in, come in,” Daichi says, stepping aside to let in his guest. 

Taketora steps into the genken and bows politely, then swings around the backpack on his shoulder carrying his things for the few days he’ll be spending in the Sawamura household. He makes quick work of unzipping the main compartment and yanking out an inexpensive, but nice brand of sake. He shoves it into Daichi’s hands with a wild grin.

“Stuff’s good for a good night. Doesn’t taste too bad, either, for the price.”

“Thank you, Tora,” Daichi replies with genuine thanksgiving, reading over the label with an approving look. Taketora smiles, happy that Kuroo’s husband is easy to please.

“We’ll have to make sure the kids are down for the night before we break this puppy open, but I’m definitely looking forward to it.” Daichi‘s expression bubbles with mischeif, the shine in his eyes telling Taketora it’s been a while since he let loose.

Taketora slips off his shoes and follows Daichi into the house. Remembering the text from earlier and the news of another member joining their small get-together, he asks, “So what’s up with this Kenma guy Kuroo texted about?”

Daichi looks over his shoulder, leading the way to the kitchen. “Kenma’s apartment building, unfortunately, burst a sewage pipe, so now he is our guest until the owners can complete clean-up.”

“Oh,” he replies, his curiosity growing. It wasn’t as if Taketora hasn’t heard of Kenma before. In fact, he’s heard about him a lot over the last ten years or more. Kenma and Kuroo met through work and a fast friendship blossomed. Taketora had been convinced at one point that Kenma was Kuroo’s soulmate as much as Kuroo had talked about him. But Kuroo had assured him that it wasn’t so, and that as much as Kuroo loved and respected his friend, they could never make each other happy in a romantic sense.

You would think that Taketora would have met this Kenma person by now, but no. Kenma is a bit if a recluse and tends to avoid social gatherings from what he’s been told by Kuroo. He shies away from new people and unfamiliar situations, which begs the question; how the hell did this guy land a job with a company that is constantly under the spotlight?

Taketora has no more time to consider things as he is led into the kitchen and stops short, his bag slipping to the floor to land with a dull thunk, when his eyes fell on the mystery man himself.

Kenma is a short, which is saying something since Taketora isn’t all that tall to begin with. He’s also pale, with shoulder length hair sorely in need of a root job as they are severely grown out while the rest of his hair is brassy blonde. Kenma has it braided down his back, and on anyone else, the bad dye job and long hair might look gross on someone as delicate looking as him, but it appears to work for him. Quite well, from Taketora’s perspective. His face is round, still containing the baby fat of a person who hasn’t met his soulmate yet. His nose is small and button-like, and very cute. His mouth is pouty, and his bottom lip is a little red as he sits at the kitchen table, nervously biting at it.

But it’s the eyes that stop Taketora’s breath and elevate his heartbeat. They’re large and almond shape, and if Kuroo’s eyes give off a feline vibe, then Kenna’s are literally feline; golden with pupils like slits. Somewhere in the recesses if his memory, Taketora remembers reading about a rare genetic disorder that gives human’s cat-like eyes. But seeing it up close is a wonder. And the intelligence lighting them up from within like the sun through a window make Taketora feel hot and dizzy as he’s pinned beneath them, all round with surprise.

Kenma is definitely beautiful; delicate to look at, though Taketora has no doubt that he could take care of himself. Despite the overlarge hoodie, Taketora can tell he has a slender build, one that his fingers itch to explore.

Still, all of this pales in comparison to the moment of feeling like a piece of his life’s puzzle falls into place. Like a key fitting into a lock, Taketora feels something monumental shift within him. As if the stasis that his life was in is finally lifted and he can move forward.

Kenma is his soulmate.

The realization is slow in coming, but as it settles on Taketora, he sucks in a deep breath before letting out in a shuddering gush of air. He wants to cry, to yell and jump for joy. He doesn’t know how to process this new feeling, except he knows that above all he feels relief to know that there was someone all along who could love him.

Taketora is next to Kenma before he realizes he’s taken a step, nearly panting with excitement. He can’t stop from smiling so big his face hurts. 

Kenma, though, flinches and ducks his head, avoiding looking at him, and Taketora remembers at the last second that this man, his  _ soulmate _ , is an introvert and probably wouldn’t be pleased to be tackled or yelled at.

Taketora takes half a second to compose himself, then with all the restraint he owns, he simply says, “Hello, Kenma-kun. It’s so nice to finally meet you.”

Kenma makes a pained expression, still not looking at Taketora. He fidgets with an empty mug of tea that’s sitting in front of him on the table, and for a moment Taketora thinks that Kenma might be one of  _ those  _ people. His heart plummets to his knees as his world starts to crumble, and he thinks he may burst into tears.

Then Kenma sighs, shifting in his seat before hesitantly looking up at him. There is a light flush dusting the apples of his cheeks, but the look in his eyes doesn’t scream disappointment, and Taketora breathes for the first time in his life. Kenma might be the most beautiful person he’s ever seen.

“Hello, Taketora. I’m please to meet you, too.”

 


End file.
